The Color Yellow | Georgie Denbrough

- the color yellow | 04

ⓄⓞⓄ

ⓄⓞⓄ

Bill really wanted to catch the person who was leaving these things behind in the act, but he was afraid that they would run away if he did so. He was almost certain that it had been the little girl with the flower, but he hadn't seen her since, and he was afraid to ask around.

Something about her had seemed familiar. He had only seen her from afar. Bill had spent one of the last days before school started back up with Richie brainstorming where he may have seen her before, but the boy hadn't been very interested.

"I w-w-wonder if they were fr-friends and I just didn't p-p-p-pay enough attention to his l-life to notice who c-c-came home with him," Bill mused, staring up at the ceiling with his hands on his chest. He had cleaned his room and now he and Richie lay in opposite directions across his bed, contemplating. The latter of the two held a cigarette, despite Bill's pleads for him to keep it out of the house— but they opened a window, and he didn't think the smell would be too bad.

"Maybe I should ask Eds out on a date," Richie sighed. "Like, a real one. Not joking like I usually do."

"That has nuh-nuh-nothing to do with wh-why I asked you t-t-to come over," Bill pointed out, sitting up and watching his friend take a long drag on his cigarette. The wild-haired boy exhaled slowly, eyes rolling up into the back of his head as he let out a groan.

"Yeah, but my crisis is more important," he insisted. "This is just some weirdo leaving yellow things on your porch. For all we know, it could just be some big prank. My problem is life or death."

"Ha!" Bill laughed sharply. "Is n-n-not."

"Is, too!" Richie retorted, sitting up as well and folding his legs beneath him. His brow furrowed. He was troubled, Bill could tell. His stomach churned a bit and he frowned, giving his full attention. Richie huffed, folding his arms across his chest and hunching his shoulders.

"Look," he began uncomfortably, crushing the end of his cigarette in an ash tray Bill had nicked from the coffee table, "it's no secret anymore that I like Eddie. I thought I was being sneaky, but Stan told me a few days ago that you two have been onto me since the beginning... and I'm not mad, if you're not."

"I'm n-n-not mad," Bill assured him. "I could n-never be muh-mad for that."

Because me, too. Just with someone else.

But he would never admit that.

"Okay," Richie said, and his muscles seemed to relax. He sat up a little bit straighter, still avoiding Bill's gaze. "Well, I don't know who else knows, but Eds definitely doesn't. He thinks this is all some sort of joke. And I mean, it is, but it isn't, you know? And I want to tell him. But you know what he saw earlier this summer. You know what he associates this sort of thing with." He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and buried his face in his hands, groaning. "God, he's going to think I'm sick, he's going to think I'm disgusting—"

"Ruh-Ruh-Richie," Bill said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. He didn't look up, but he quieted down. Bill frowned, squeezing gently, then letting go. "He won't think y-you're suh-suh-sick. I th-think he likes you, t-t-t-too."

"That's bullshit," Richie grumbled, and when he finally looked up, his eyes were slightly red. "Absolute bullshit. No way."

"Way," Bill countered. "D-Do you th-th-think he would have let you k-kiss his cheek at open h-house if he was really th-th-that against it?"

"You saw that?" Richie breathed, and suddenly his eyes weren't the only thing that were red. His cheeks seemed to be almost glowing. Bill laughed, and nodded faintly. "Oh God, that's embarrassing. Don't tell him you saw. He'd kill me."

"I won't t-tell," Bill assured him. "But you sh-sh-should. T-Tell him you like him, I m-m-m-mean."

"Maybe," Richie relented, a slightly faraway look in his eyes. "You should, too. Tell Stan." Bill nearly choked on his own tongue, coughing violently and pounding his chest with his fist. Richie cackled, clutching his stomach and falling back against the bed.

"Sc-Screw off, Tozier!" Bill managed, instinctive tears building up in his eyes and threatening to spill as another bout of coughs wracked his body.

"No, but I'm serious!" Richie said once they had both calmed themselves down. "I'll tell if you do."

"Eh-Eh-Eddie and Stan are two c-c-c-completely different people," Bill said. "It's not the s-suh-same."

"Yeah, because Stan is more likely to say yes than Eds is," Richie told him. "Just ask him to go bird watching. Buy him something nice. He'll get the picture."

"I can't," Bill said, anxious energy beginning to build up in his stomach. "I c-c-can't."

"Okay, then I guess I won't, either," Richie said, shrugging. "I gotta go. Ma wants me home for dinner." He got to his feet, stretching rather dramatically with a loud grunt. "Walk me home, dear Billy, won't you?"

"You can wuh-walk yourself home," Bill said, leading his friend down the stairs and over to his front door. "And you'd b-b-better tell Eddie soon, R-R-Rich. You're running o-out of t-t-time."

"I know," Richie sighed. "I'm just—" He put a hand on the doorknob and hesitated. Then he looked at Bill, and for a minute, he was so small. Bill looked back and he saw the raw fear in his friend's dark eyes. "I'm so scared."

Bill swallowed thickly, heart beating just a little bit faster. "W-W-Well," he said, managing a small smile, "if y-you can help kill a d-d-demonic clown and st-still find the st-st-strength to get up every muh-morning, what can't you d-d-do?"

Richie smiled back, and his gaze cleared. He took a deep breath. "Thanks, Big Bill." The door swung open, and they both looked down at the doorstep. A bag of yellow salt-water taffee rested on the welcome mat. Bill leaned down, unfastened the twine and handed one to Richie.

"G-Go get him, Tuh-Tozier."

ⓄⓞⓄ